Kennard, hand on the doorknob, paused and turned back to Serin. “Cura will remain with Elena except during my visits. You contradict yourself, Serin. First, you advise I release her, then fret about escape. What is it you truly want?”
Serin scratched his neck, grappling for the right words. “Just one thing, Your Grace.”
Kennard sighed, exasperation evident. “Honestly, I’ve lost track.”
“Without battles to occupy you,” he continued, “it seems you’re getting lost in useless thoughts. Handle the correspondence, draft replies, and organize the mineral tribute reports.”
“And you?” Serin raised an eyebrow.
“Naturally, I’ll be with Elena.”
Serin stared at him, incredulous. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re not yourself, Your Grace. Women have never held your interest. Did you indulge in too much Vanaichi? Are you feeling unwell?”
Serin’s incessant nagging pushed Kennard to the brink. “Silence, or I’ll strangle you.” He growled, frustration boiling over. Why did he ever forget the man’s endless capacity for chatter? All he craved was returning to bed, his impatience fueled by the sounds of Elena stirring within the room.
“Leave,” Kennard dismissed. “We’ll head to the border tomorrow.” With that, he shut the door on Serin’s sputtering protests.
Inside, Elena wrestled to sit up, pulling the fur covering her up to her chest. Her gaze darted around the room, likely searching for clothes. He’d discarded her robe and chemise by the fireplace, leaving her with no choice but to get out of bed if she wanted to dress. Convenient, he thought with a smirk, remembering the strategically ajar door.
Kennard paused halfway across the room. “Rising already?”
Elena flinched at the sound, her head snapping up slowly. The fur shot up to cover her chin in a flurry of movement. It contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and vibrant red hair. Her eyelids and cheeks, slightly puffy from sleep, resembled soft sugar cookies. Even her lips, which had borne the brunt of his affections throughout the night, were fuller and more inviting than usual.
The sight of her took his breath away. Blood pulsed in his lower body. “Can you stand?” he asked, his voice husky.
Elena’s large, clear gray eyes flickered with embarrassment, and a blush crept up her cheeks. She turned away, burying her chin in the fur, her sleep-tousled hair cascading down one shoulder. Even after their passionate night, her shyness was undeniably endearing.
Kennard approached slowly, his gaze fixed on her. As he neared, Elena hunched her shoulders and hid her face even deeper in the fur. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw the exposed skin of her shoulder turn a delicate pink.
He walked past the bed, his bare chest catching the warm afternoon sun that streamed through the window as he pushed aside the heavy curtains. He repeated the action on the other side, revealing the distant greenhouse nestled within the garden.
A memory flickered. Yesterday afternoon, the sound of the whistle he’d given Elena for emergencies had sent a jolt through him. It was meant for dire situations outside the castle walls, yet here it was, echoing within.
He’d been in his office with Serin, buried in dispatches from the capital, when the shrill sound pierced the air. The whistle fell silent before he could determine the direction, but Elena’s pheromones served as a beacon. Without a moment’s hesitation, Kennard transformed, becoming a wolf. Leaping over terraces and walls, he raced through the castle grounds until he reached the greenhouse.
Had a Whitefox entered the castle? he had thought, bewildered. The castle security shouldn’t be this lax. Even more concerning, he hadn’t picked up a whiff of their foul pheromones anywhere.
